


I'll get by

by Iithril



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Cookies, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Moving In Together, Slice of Life, Star Spangled Secret Santa (Marvel), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: "Welcome to our new home," Steve said as he opened the door with a kick, arms full of boxes. Bucky followed him close, careful not to knock over what he carried.Bucky and Steve move into their new apartment and slowly learn how to heal and carry on, with the gentle help of Sam, Nat, and Alpine.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19
Collections: Star Spangled Secret Santa 2020





	I'll get by

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bicappy (ubertrash)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubertrash/gifts).



> For the amazing [bicappy](https://bicappy.tumblr.com/)! I hope you'll enjoy this story. Happy holidays, dear!
> 
> Many thanks to the incredible mods of the **[Star Spangled Secret Santa](https://starspangledsecretsanta.tumblr.com/)** for organising this wonderful event.
> 
> Credits to my fantastic beta, who deserves all the best, will be added with the reveal.
> 
> Additional notes and warnings can be found in the end notes.

"Welcome to our new home," Steve said as he opened the door with a kick, arms full of boxes. Bucky followed him close, careful not to knock over what he carried. The tiled flooring was impeccable, and his shoes made a squishy sound when he walked in. With a relieved sigh, he put everything on the floor in the middle of the first room, then stretched his back and took a good look around, hands on his hips.

Steve had chosen the location for the both of them — Bucky didn't want to go outside, and just climbing the stairs leading to the place had been an ordeal. He didn't want to see anyone. He had trusted his boyfriend enough to let him choose, but he was still curious to explore the place.

"Here's the living room," Steve indicated, "and the kitchen counter," he pointed at a rather large wooden counter that was divided in two, one part that covered the corner and the other one in an islet.

"There's the hallway that leads to the bathroom," he carried on as he showed Bucky a first door, "and our bedroom. There's also a second bedroom at the end of the hallway, and a room I haven't found a use for yet."

Bucky snorted, and walked closer to the other side of the living room, where there was another wooden door.

"Ah, there you have what made me choose the apartment."

"Better be worth it, Steve, it's six stories and no elevator."

"Come on, let me show you."

Steve gently grabbed Bucky's hands, only letting go to open the door.

"Close your eyes, come on."

Reluctantly, Bucky closed his eyes and let his boyfriend guide him through the door. There was more light, he could feel it on his skin, and he basked in it, leaning his head back. The flooring was also different, probably wood, as it creaked under their feet.

"You can open them," Steve whispered in his ear, and Bucky obeyed.

It was almost like a balcony, but turned into a greenhouse and then entirely emptied. There were wooden shelves, a hammock, a glass ceiling that showed the sun high in the sky; and it smelt like dry soil and aromatic plants. It was lovely, and Bucky didn't feel like he was in centre New York right now.

"I thought it would please you to have a bit of sun... You'll be able to have plants, if you want to, or anything you want, actually. It's yours."

Emotion seizing his throat, Bucky turned to Steve and hugged him tightly, relishing in the soft touch of Steve's arms around him and the warmth of his skin, the gentle strength with which Steve was holding him all against him.

"I love it," he whispered, and he felt Steve exhaling in his neck, his embrace tightening ever so slightly. They stayed like this for a bit, swaying a little on their feet, until Steve let his arms fall in the curve of Bucky's back.

"Not that I don't want to hug you all day long, my love, but we got quite a load of boxes in the truck and–"

"Shit, Alpine!" Bucky exclaimed, suddenly remembering that Nat was supposed to bring his cat and didn't know their address yet.

Steve's laughter filled the room as Bucky dashed out and down the stairs, unlocking his phone and fidgeting frantically until he managed to open his contacts and call Nat.

" _Yeah, pretty boy?_ "

"You close yet?"

" _I'm glad I have a context for this sentence._ " Bucky rolled his eyes and he knew Nat knew, but she carried on as if it was nothing, _"GPS is telling me six minutes until I arrive in the street. What number are you at?_ "

Bucky walked down the six steps that led to the street, squinting at the sudden change of luminosity, and looked up, over the door frame.

"45."

" _Huh. I'll remember it. See you in– five minutes now._ "

"Yep!"

She hung up and he put the phone back in his pocket, still amazed by the device and its technological prowess. He heard someone descending the stairs behind him, glanced to see who it was, and smiled when Steve walked next to him, hands on his hips.

"How about we empty this truck before Nat arrives?"

Bucky snorted, mentally counting the boxes still left in the back of the truck they had rented. Bucky didn't own much, most of the stuff belonged to Steve, who had kept the habit of travelling light. They could do it.

~°~

They almost did it. Bucky was pushing the last box to the back of the truck for Steve to grab when they spotted Nat's car turning at the corner, and Steve waved at it eagerly. She drove and managed to park right in front of the truck first try. She opened the window, stuck her head out and said, sunglasses hiding the glint of mischief in her eyes, "So here's the fossils' new house, huh?"

Bucky let Steve lift the box and carry it up to the apartment, and he walked to Nat's car, opening the back door.

"He didn't bother you too much?"

"Nah, he meowed out loud as soon as he saw me, but he's been quiet after that. I think he likes the sound of the engine — he purred as soon as I started."

Alpine lifted his head from over his paws and meowed once, questioning.

"Yeah honey, Auntie Nat has the best car. Can't compete," she laughed as she grabbed her keys and got out, leaving Alpine's cage for Bucky. He unbuckled it and dragged it to him carefully, before taking it into his arms and closing the door with his feet.

"How've you been, hm?" Bucky asked, sticking his nose against the cage, rewarded by a lick and a loud purr. He smiled then lowered the cage to his chest to see over it and avoid Alpine's hairs getting in his nose. He didn't want to sneeze while carrying him, especially on those traitorous stairs.

"Sixth story?" Nat asked as she reached the fourth, poking her head over the ramp.

"Yes," Bucky sighed, and Nat's laughter filled the stairwell.

"Woah, that's some nice apartment you found, Mr. Rogers, I'm proud of you!" she declared as she passed the door, weaving through the boxes strewn over the floor and poking in each room.

Bucky followed her to the bathroom, and he put Alpine's cage on the floor.

" _Meow_."

"Yeah, I'm coming!"

He needed to find Alpine's bowls. If he remembered well, he had put them in his own box. He glanced and searched until he found the label "Bucky" written in red on one side of the boxes, and he crouched next to it.

"Need scissors or something?" Nat asked next to him, and he winked at her as he tucked a knife out of his pants' pocket and swiftly cut the tape open.

"Why did I ask, actually?" she laughed, sitting on the floor cross-legged as he searched in his box, putting away clothes, knives, and ah! There they were.

Once Alpine was set in the bathroom with his two bowls filled with kibbles and water and his litter box all set, Bucky closed the door, leaving on the light of the mirror that overlooked the sink.

"Steve, Alpine is in the bathroom, careful when you go take a pee!"

"Will do!" his boyfriend's voice answered, coming from their bedroom. Bucky peaked inside, curious about what box Steve was opening, and Nat slid under his arm to enter.

"Ouch, that's an old bed," she grimaced, and she was right. Bucky hadn't got the occasion to take a close look at it, but it looked...

"Just as old as we are, don't you think?" Steve joked, and they all laughed.

"When is your trip to Ikea planned again?"

"In two days, I couldn't find time before that. Sorry, Bucks."

"Hey, don't worry about that, would you? At least we won't be disoriented," Bucky immediately reassured Steve, who was on track to take all the blame on himself.

Amongst joking, chatting and teasing each other, they had almost finished emptying the box that was for this room, which contained two pillows, one set of bed linens, their pyjamas — Nat mocked them when she saw them. Bucky found his Captain America themed pyjama pretty comfortable and hilarious, so he didn't mind. Steve's was covered with bananas. He adored them and had bought them on a whim long before he had retrieved Bucky — it was Sam and Nat that had told him about this story, and _he_ looked _ridiculous_ in it. But cute too. Question of balance.

"Damn it, I gotta go boys, I'm sorry," Nat said as her watch lit up with a message. She elegantly got back on her feet, dusted her clothes.

"Don't be, you've already done so much," Steve said as he got up too, giving her a warm hug.

"You call me if you need anything, okay," she said very seriously while pointing at Bucky's nose. He leant forward just enough for her finger to bop his nose and made a popping sound, which earned him a giggle and a forehead goodbye kiss.

He watched her as she hurried out of the room, her braid oscillating on her back. He liked her long hair, he realised, and he told her.

"Thanks pretty boy, you're too sweet!" she exclaimed as she exited their apartment. The sound of her shoes tapping in the stairs echoed and faded, and then it was only Steve and Bucky.

"It's the two of us again, huh?" Steve smiled, mirroring Bucky's thoughts.

"Not like we're not used to it."

"You alright, Bucks?" Steve enquired, tilting his head, and Bucky berated himself for worrying his boyfriend.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just... tired, I guess."

"Let me just open the box for the kitchen and then I'll prepare you a little something, what do you say?"

Bucky nodded weakly, exhaustion hitting him. It had sounded like a great idea, but now... He was worried it wasn't going to work. What if the neighbours were assholes? What if Steve didn't like the apartment any more? What if they had to come back to Stark's Tower because of all the people that had decided they knew better and wanted to be in control? What if–

The gentle touch of Steve's hand going through his hair got Bucky out of his spiraling thoughts and he held his breath as he realised there were tears streaming down his face. Again. For fuck's sake.

"We're going to be alright, my love," Steve whispered as he awkwardly encircled Bucky with his arms while standing above him, his back all bent and his beard tickling the back of Bucky's neck.

Bucky exhaled shakily, grounding himself in the rumbling of Steve's voice and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.

"Can you make an omelet?"

  
~°~  
  


It turned out the fuses blew as soon as Steve turned on the oven burners in the kitchen, making them laugh nervously when they heard an anxious _meowl_ coming from the bathroom a few seconds after all the lights turned off in the apartment, causing Bucky to draw his knife. They ended up with sushi from the shop on the other side of the street, that Steve kindly retrieved while Bucky waited with Alpine, and they ate them with their plastic chopsticks in the bathroom, Alpine curled up on Bucky's lap. They discovered the light of the bathroom flickered with a clicking sound which unsettled Steve, and that Bucky had forgotten his toothbrush back at the Tower, so they brushed their teeth one after the other, in the dark, Alpine purring next to them their only consolation.

They changed into their pyjamas, Steve closed the shutters and the curtains, went back to the bathroom to check on Alpine's bowls, and they finally slid under their blanket and tried to settle for sleep.

"I think I still like modern mattresses better," Bucky said after a while. He was staring at the ceiling, rubbing his feet against the sheet to warm them up.

"Totally agree," Steve answered softly. He was falling asleep, and he had had a long day, so Bucky didn't insist and listened to his boyfriend's breathing to try and fall asleep.

It failed, but hey, it was their first day.

~°~

At 5:15 am, he heard Steve's alarm go off and growled, but Steve was quick to turn it off, and Bucky smiled when he felt a gentle kiss on his forehead and sweet nonsense whispered in his ears. The noises that came from outside the bedroom—the water running in the bathroom, Alpine meowing, protesting against the ungodly hour he was being woken up at, the whistle of the coffee maker and then the scent of coffee — all of it kept him awake, but in this comfortable state of slumber he had learnt to enjoy.

After a moment, the bedroom's door opened again, and a weight jumped on the bed near his feet before walking to him and settling on his back. He heard Steve's breathless laugh before a "Good day, Buck. See you tonight," to which he mumbled "Good day," and then he fell asleep.

When he woke up for good, the weight on his back had moved to the crook of his neck, and hairs tickling his nose worked to push away the remnants of sleep.

"Alpine, you're not supposed to be here," Bucky exhaled, opening a lazy eye to see his cat rolled next to him, purring.

"Well, there goes the clean bed linen I guess."

With a sigh, he pushed the blanket away and stretched before getting up. Grubbing in the pile of clothes Steve had put in a corner of the room for lack of a wardrobe or a closet to welcome them, he dug out one of Steve's shirts, and a pair of leggings that Nat had given him. He loved those leggings.

Steve had bought him croissants before leaving, like the best boyfriend he was, so Bucky mumbled a thanks and dipped them into a cup of black coffee he made in the tiny Italian coffee maker Sam had offered them as soon as he had learnt they were getting their own apartment in Brooklyn. They had the best friends, really.

After that, he fed Alpine who had started to run between his legs, begging for food, and he zoned in the apartment, inspecting the windows and the surroundings. They were the only apartment that high, and there was no noise coming from beneath, but given the time it was, the neighbours were likely to be at work.

As he was sitting in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes and idly playing with Alpine, his phone chimed in the bedroom and he got up to see who it was.

**_Steve (10:54 AM)_** _: Checking-in you good_

**_Bucky (10:55 AM)_** _: Are you using vocal dictation, Steve? Please add some punctuation at least_

**_Steve (10:59 AM)_** _: Checking-in! You good?_

Bucky laughed at the time it took Steve to write back. He had a hard time using the phones Stark had gifted them both—not that Bucky was doing better, but at least he had learnt how to type properly, although his fingers slipping and touching the wrong letter infuriated him sometimes. His phone had a special screen that allowed his metal fingers to interact with it properly, but he mistyped a lot.

**_Bucky (11:02 AM)_** _: A bit bored, otherwise good. We need to go to Ikea, I can't unpack the boxes, there's nowhere to put the things_

**_Steve (11:05 AM)_** _: Can you make a list of the furniture we'll need?_

**_Bucky (11:05 AM)_** _: I got you_

A list of what they lacked it was then. Bucky searched for a piece of paper, didn't find any so he reached for his phone again — hadn't Nat told him about a "notes" feature? Ah, there it was. _Notes_. Plain and simple. Good.

A rack. A bath mat. Closets. A couch. He wanted the best couch. He wanted to watch movies with Sam and Nat and Steve, all snuggled together with a big blanket– no better, several blankets, and their onesies. And ice cream.

Yeah, that sounded like a nice plan.

He wrote that in his notes as well, sticking his tongue out and focusing really hard to get the right letters at the right time. He was supposed to have perfect aim, for fuck's sake.

Plates. Bowls. Something to hang their towels. Plants. Plants everywhere. Aromatic plants too.

**_Bucky (03:23 PM)_** _: List complete_

Feeling down again, and realising he hadn't eaten anything, Bucky gobbled the leftover sushi down with a glassful of water and headed to bed to sleep. Shit, a new mattress. Grumbling, he got up again to grab his phone and wrote it down immediately. Didn't want to forget anything.

**_Bucky (03:35 PM)_** _: List really complete_

He closed the curtains of the room, snuggled under the blanket, stirred a bit until he found a good position with his pillow, and fell asleep with the comforting purring of Alpine against his chest.

The sounds of a key turning into the entrance door woke him up and he jumped down from the bed, grabbing the knife under his pillow. Very carefully, he walked to the bedroom's door without a noise and opened it, wincing as the hinges creaked a bit.

"Bucky? You there, love?"

Fuck. It was Steve. He couldn't let Steve see the knife, he had to hide it–

"What are you doing with a knife?"

Too late. Steve had walked to the bedroom immediately and glanced in, and Bucky froze, knife in hand, unsure of how to answer.

"I– I, I didn't know who it was and– reflex," he said pitifully.

"Oh, Buck... Come here," Steve said, opening his arms wide, and Bucky gladly accepted the hug, feeling a bit guilty. He wasn't supposed to be paranoid any more, nor to attack anyone that would enter the apartment. But Steve understood, and didn't judge him. It felt comforting, to have Steve by his side again. It was also a bit weird that Steve was the more responsible of the two of them — how he had changed, forced into responsibilities so early, in a time that wasn't his. Just like Bucky. They understood each other. Till the end of the line.

"It's okay," Steve murmured as he soothingly rubbed his back, up and down, down and up.

"Hrm."

After a moment of silence, Bucky pulled away and asked, realising there was almost no light filtering through the curtains any more, "What time is it?"

"Hm, almost seven."

Well, that was a good nap. It made up for the shitty night, at least.

"What's that smell?" Bucky enquired, getting out of the bedroom and sniffing something.

"I, uh, brought pasta back from the Tower, to avoid the lights-out bathroom-in dinner situation again."

Bucky opened the plastic bag on the counter and took out the boxes in it, his stomach rumbling — the smell had stirred his hunger. Steve grabbed the necessary cutlery and they sat together.

"Thank you," Bucky said, mouthful of pasta, slurping to avoid a bit from falling. It felt good to eat something warm, and even better, to have Steve back.

"You're welcome," Steve winked at him, already starting his desert.

~°~

They brushed their teeth with Steve's toothbrush again, and Bucky added that to his list, along with a toilet brush, an item that wasn't valued enough.

"You only realise the value of a toilet brush when you don't have one," Bucky said once they were both in bed, lights out.

He rolled to Steve, who stayed silent, a bit surprised by this statement.

"Kind of how I realised how much I loved you– when I was away from you."

"Did you just compare me to a toilet brush?" Steve laughed.

"If that can reassure you, I love you more than a toilet brush."

"That's a great comfort, thank you," Steve said, laughter still in his voice, as he embraced Bucky, his hands caressing his back again, following hypnotising patterns that lulled Bucky to sleep.

~°~

They were at Ikea, and Bucky hated it. He hated that people were running around, pushing him, speaking way louder than necessary, touching and messing with everything. They had almost everything — they were missing the couch and the mattress, and maybe more light bulbs, but they couldn't find that section. They were in the middle of the carpet display, and they had chosen one to go in the living room, but it wasn't the most important thing they needed, and Bucky was tired.

Steve too, but he was better at hiding it.

They had had to give up on plants because the entire section had been stormed by a very loud and rude family that neither of them wanted to deal with right now. They didn't have energy to spare, they were already playing incognito — Steve with a wig that Nat had offered him, which perfectly mimicked Nat's latest haircut. They had laughed for hours, especially Bucky and Sam, when Steve had worn it for the first time. But it had the merit of changing his appearance enough to allow him to wander in Ikea without being assaulted by fans.

Bucky had his favourite red and black scarf, Nat's leggings again, which oddly fit with his combat boots, and Steve's biker vest, because reasons. He was pushing the cart, and he was getting frankly annoyed that they couldn't find the bed and mattress section.

He spotted a member of the staff, waved at Steve to look after the cart and walked to the man, who turned to him and made his best to smile despite the frown Bucky sported.

"Excuse me, where can we find the mattresses and couches?"

"From here, you cross the bathroom section, then you have the lighting section, and then you'll find it. Can't miss it!" the man said jokingly, and Bucky thanked him before going back to the cart.

"You know where we need to go?" Steve enquired with a sigh, and Bucky noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the slight trembling of his hands, that he kept tight on the cart, knuckles white. They were both reaching their limits there, and they needed to get out.

"Straight on," Bucky answered, pressing Steve's hands into his and doing his best to smile and push away the tension building inside of him.

They crossed the bathroom section, grabbed a bath mat that didn't look too bad, not wanting to waste energy on this, passed the lighting fixtures, squinting at all the lights on display, and finally, _finally_ , they arrived where they wanted to be.

Bucky grabbed his phone from the side pocket of his leggings and opened his notes. They had taken the measurements of the mattress, of course, so they glanced at the different features each mattress had — memory foam, hypoallergenic fabric, and so on... before settling on the one Steve sat on to take a breath.

They also took the reference code of the bedside table next to it, and Bucky noticed a cute nightlight — roundly shaped, with blue ears and a tiny face drawn on it.

"Look, Steve," he said as he took the nightlight in hand and showed it to his boyfriend, who made a tired smile.

"Cute. You want it?"

Bucky's first reflex was to be ashamed to want a nightlight. He didn't like waking up in the dark, disoriented, and the torturous seconds it took him every time to remember that he was safe, that Steve was at his side. But a nightlight? That was for kids. Or people afraid of the dark. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything. Especially not dark.

He rotated it to see if there was a price tag on its back and stopped. Steve, who was waiting for an answer, raised an eyebrow, and jumped on his feet when he noticed Bucky's shoulders were shaking.

"Hey, Buck-"

"It has a butt hole-" Bucky said, struggling not to explode with laughter.

He handed the light to Steve, who took a look at its back too and snorted immediately. Under the blue tail it had was the charging port, conveniently placed to evoke something else. An irrepressible laughter escaped his lips and he gave up.

"We're taking it," Steve declared after they regained their composure, avoiding looking at it too close, and he grabbed one that was still in its package to bring back to their cart. Bucky rubbed his eyes, sighing. He was too tired for this shit, really, but laughing had released the tension and he helped Steve find the reference code for the mattress and search for another staff member to order its delivery to their truck. As he pushed the cart to the final area for them to collect all the pieces of furniture they wanted, he cast a look at the nightlight again and stifled a giggle — too tired, really.

  
  


"What do we call it?" he asked as he passed it to Steve before finally closing the door of the truck. They had had a hard time figuring out how to place all their pieces, but Steve had figured it out and Bucky had followed his directives. The perks of being physically enhanced — moving all the boxes around had been easy once they had decided where to put them. Still, it had made for a good workout.

"What does its tag say?"

"Spöka," Bucky answered after searching for it and deciphering the name under the dim light of the truck — night had fallen. They had spent almost five hours in Ikea, no wonder they were worn out.

"What about Sputnik?"

"I like it. Sputnik it is."

Bucky opened the seal and freed Sputnik. According to the instructions, he had to press the top of its head and- there it was. A soft blue light filled the car, reflecting on the windscreen and giving an eerie look to Steve's profile. He was focused on the road, and the light made his jawline stand out even more, so Bucky leant and gave it a kiss, feeling Steve's smile under his lips.

"Do you think Alpine will like it?"

"I'm sure he'll try to play with it."

  
  


They found the energy to unload the truck, motivating each other and counting the number of remaining pieces to move to their apartment, using their strength to carry several at a time, and they sighed with relief when the doors of the truck's back finally closed.

"We're not assembling them tonight, are we?" Bucky asked, dreading the task already.

Steve looked at the hour on his watch and grimaced.

"It's past ten already, I'm not assembling furniture tonight."

"Me neither."

They got back to their apartment, locking up behind themselves, Bucky unpacked his brand new toothbrush and inaugurated it while Steve was discussing with Alpine—who told them all about his day, wandering around Steve's feet and making sure to voice his discontent about their absence. The new mattress fit perfectly, much to their relief, and Bucky changed the bed linen while Steve unpacked their pillows and blanket. He threw a packet at Bucky with a little smile, and sat next to him as Bucky worked his way to open it.

It was a soft pale blue blanket, but there was something odd about it—it weighed a lot for a simple blanket. Bucky understood as soon as he wrapped it around his shoulder, and turned to Steve with a delighted grin.

"Where did you find it?"

"When you were discussing with the staff about the mattress. It was right next to the pillows, and since I knew Sam had advised you to try one, I thought..."

Bucky jumped and threw his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, hugging him tight and making him laugh.

"Thank you," he whispered, and he snuggled next to Steve, who opened his arms for him and welcomed the rolled crepe he had turned into.

With Sputnik pulsing on the floor, projecting blue and green light over the walls, the comforting weight of the blanket and Steve's arms around him, Bucky managed to fall asleep this time.

~°~

**_Steve (04:25 AM):_ ** _Nat and Sam are coming in the morning to help you I hope I don't wake you up have a nice day love you_

**_Bucky (09:03 AM)_** _: You didn't wake me up._

**_Bucky (09:05 AM):_ ** _[A photo of Alpine on the counter islet of their apartment, curled up next to a bowl full of a dark liquid. In the background, Sputnik is shining a green light.]_

**_Bucky (09:06 AM):_ ** _Have a nice day too_

  
  


Bucky was finishing assembling their bedside tables, sitting in the middle of the living room surrounded by pieces, screws and cardboard, Alpine hidden somewhere in an empty box, when his phone chimed again. He grabbed it with one hand, screwdriver in the other hand to tighten all the screws. It was a photo from Sam, apparently.

**_Pigeon (11:01 AM):_ ** _[A photo of Nat and Sam smiling to the camera in front of a door with the number 45 on it. Nat is making a V with her fingers and Sam is pointing at the door number.]_

Bucky got up with a little laugh and unlocked the door to reveal his two friends behind it, hands on their hips, trying to play serious. Sam gave him a hug, tapping his shoulder.

"The Captain told us you might need reinforcements for this mission," he declared very seriously, the wink he gave Bucky a stark contrast with his formal attitude.

Nat entered the apartment and whistled at the mess.

"Well, looked like he was right. That's a dirty battlefield."

"Hey," Bucky protested as he dusted the bedside tables and brought them to the bedroom, "I'm winning so far."

"You need to win faster!" Sam exclaimed as he put his backpack on the counter. Just as Nat had done the first time she had entered the apartment, he roamed in every room, sat on the mattress to test it, declared it was a good choice, and headed back to the living room with Bucky.

"So what's left?"

"The couch for our movie nights, a low table and all the light bulbs that need to be changed."

  
  


They tackled the couch first, Sam telling Bucky about their latest mission and reporting funny anecdotes about Steve and Nat making sure to keep the balance with her own anecdotes about Sam. They were brutally efficient, and the couch was finished in no time.

Careful not to walk on a stray screw or tool, they moved it in front of the wall where the TV would be. Bucky dramatically laid down on it with a sigh, and he stared at Sam when his friend's head appeared on top of him.

"Come on lazybones, it's not over yet!"

"I need some rest, I can see schematics when I close my eyes. Overdose of Ikea."

Alpine decided to snuggle on Bucky's chest, so he decided not to move and provided moral support to Sam as he assembled the low table. Nat went in the bathroom to change the flickering light bulb and she came back very satisfied, tossed the packaging in their bin with a perfect throw and jumped on the armrest of the couch, her feet landing very close to Bucky's face — but he trusted her, and she snuggled next to him, her fingers playing idly with her hair.

"Hey, Nat?"

"Hm?"

"Can you make me a braid like yours?" Bucky asked. He liked having his hair touched, and since he hadn't cut his hair in quite a long time, he could sport a ponytail or a braid.

"I'm doing all the work here," Sam grumbled, trying to figure out in which hole the screw was supposed to go by comparing the schematics with what was in front of him.

"We're moral support!" Nat protested as she began to separate Bucky's hair into three parts to start the braid.

  
  


A braid and a low table later, Nat climbed onto Bucky's shoulder to change the light bulb of the kitchen, and Sam went out to buy some "basic groceries" as he had said, rambling about how super soldiers needed to eat properly and how they weren't able to take care of themselves since their fridge was empty.

"You're so stable," Nat blurted as she exchanged the bulbs with Bucky.

"I, uh, don't think so. Steve is holding me together, and sometimes I'm holding him, but he's the stable one. And you, and Sam. I'm still losing sleep to nightmares, pulling out my knife whenever I hear a sound I can't identify."

"I was talking about right now, as a physical support," Nat said innocently, "but if you need to talk, go on."

_Oh_. Well, that was embarrassing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Bucky apologised, and he wanted to curl in a corner and disappear, but Nat was on his shoulder and she was counting on him to be stable, so he didn't move. Well, he moved a bit when she gently knocked his head, moving to a sitting position, her legs dangling on each side of Bucky's neck.

"I'm here if you need to talk, Buck."

"I know, I know... It's just... the road feels long, you know? And I feel like everyone expects me to be better, to be _cured_ or something, meanwhile I have a nightlight Steve and I named Sputnik and I talk to it when I eat breakfast."

Nat slid her feet under Bucky's arms, locking her ankles and dropping her upper body against Bucky's back.

"Nobody expects you to feel better already, pretty boy. And if there's someone, I'll just punch them in the face until they change their mind."

"That's Steve's line, usually."

"He does not have the monopoly on punching douchebags," Nat retorted, and Bucky giggled softly and grabbed Nat's calves to prevent her from falling with him moving.

"What did I just walk into?"

They turned to Sam, who had just opened the door and was considering the scene with a raised eyebrow. Facing their silence, he just shrugged and brought the four bags of groceries he was carrying into the apartment and put them on the counter.

"Thank you so much, Sam, you've no idea how much of an ordeal it is for me to buy groceries," Bucky said wholeheartedly.

"Don't thank me! Let's say you owe me cookies. I bought you the necessary ingredients to prepare cookies," Sam winked at him, already organising his purchases in the cupboard and the fridge.

Bucky felt Nat's hands on his legs and he stepped forward, following the pressure she applied. She pulled up with ease once he was facing the counter, and moved from his shoulder to sitting on the counter.

"Don't you want to walk on the floor like regular people?" Sam asked, and she didn't bother to answer, just snorted.

  
  


Their watches chimed simultaneously, the blue screen lighting up with a holographic projection and they shared a look before Nat nodded to Bucky, answering the silent question in his eyes. He made a tiny smile, but couldn't help his heart sinking. They had to go away, fight, and he had to stay there. He didn't like being the one who stayed behind — and he didn't like leaving first either. He wanted to stay with his friends, and with Steve. He had learnt his lesson.

Nat gave him a warm and strong embrace, making his spine crack with a very satisfying sound, and put a hair strand that had escaped the braid behind Bucky's ears. Sam grabbed his hand and they clapped their chest together, Sam searching Bucky's eyes, and Bucky gave him a wink to reassure him.

"You better make cookies. I want my cookies next time I visit you!" Sam exclaimed as he and Nat walked out of the apartment.

"Sure thing!" Bucky answered gleefully, holding the door for them until the sound of their steps disappeared in the staircase.

"Sure thing," he repeated for himself, closing the door, his smile deserting his face.

He sniffled as he walked to the couch before falling on it gracelessly. His head buried in the fabric, eyes barely open, he felt Alpine walking close to him, the weight of his paws moving ever so slightly the couch's cushion until a very insistent nuzzle nudged his neck and his hair, purring loud and clear, so loud it rumbled against Bucky's skin. He turned until he could welcome Alpine against his chest, his hand resting on the cat's flank.

It was fucking hard. He knew he couldn't really complain — he had a roof over his head, he had Steve with him, who loved and cherished him, and he had wonderful friends. He had recovered his body autonomy and his arm was functional, even better than that, thanks to the Wakandan princess.

But the road was so long, and the weight on his shoulders so heavy sometimes, all he wanted was it to stop.

He closed his eyes for a second, and Morpheus welcomed him eagerly.

* * *

_A few days later_

"Steve? May I know what you're doing?"

Bucky had just woken up from a long nap, exhausted after a good workout and an even better stretch—he was so close to finally make a complete split, but he didn't want to rush it. Nat had warned him enough against rushing it, and the scars on his chest still tingled when he thought about that time Hydra had forced him to stretch right after the savage surgery they had performed on him, breaking all the stitches.

No. Rushing.

That didn't explain why Steve was laying in the middle of the room they haven't found a use for yet. Bucky had noticed the door was opened and had taken a peek, only to see his boyfriend on the ground, arms at his side. Steve wasn't the yoga type — Nat had tried to teach him, but he much preferred to go for a good run with Sam.

"You know, sometimes, why not lay on the floor? What could happen?" Steve answered, his voice a bit off, as if his mind was somewhere else. He looked oddly peaceful, eyes closed and chest rising and falling steadily. _He must have looked like that when they found him in the ice_ , Bucky thought, and he regretted it immediately. Too many memories attached to that. But his boyfriend looked gorgeous, that was a fact.

"Can I join you?" Bucky said, because what could happen indeed? Steve had come back from a week-long mission that had taken a toll on all the team, maybe he needed to lay down a bit.

In answer, Steve tapped the floor next to him and Bucky carefully moved to the spot, his joint popping when he twisted his back to stretch it again.

They stayed silent after that, the murmur of their breath the only noise. Bucky didn't dare to move closer to Steve, nor touch him — he wanted to let Steve come to him if he wanted to. They touched each other a lot, holding hands, patting each other or just roaming a hand on each other's back or hips, but sometimes, it wasn't necessary.

They had each other's back, and Bucky couldn't be more grateful for the fact that Steve let down his guard with him. He wasn't good at that — letting go, letting others do the job that he thought he had to do. He had never been good at that, Bucky knew it for a fact.

Yet he'd never let go. It must have been so hard for him to wake up in a world that wasn't his any more, with conflicts he knew nothing about and nobody to share those feelings with at first. Bucky was glad Nat and Sam had been there.

But they couldn't understand the feeling, how out of phase and _old_ they felt sometimes, how genuine daily actions were still a wonder to them, how they marvelled at what technology allowed them to do but still felt like they didn't belong. The world was a constant reminder of what they had been through and what they would never have again, and it wasn't surprising they broke down from time to time. Everyone's wish seemed to be faster, go further, reach higher, always more, but the super soldiers had had enough. They wanted their own pace to dance to, for once.

Sometimes, all they needed was to lay down, stare at the ceiling for two hours without a single sound, breathing in unison, until Alpine discovered his kibbles bowl was empty and went to complain about this infamy to them, breaking the trance.

* * *

Bucky knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as he woke up. Normally he'd avoid those thoughts — he didn't need his day to be jinxed because he didn't have the proper mindset.

But he had woken up with Alpine sick, vomiting on the floor, and Steve had brought her to the vet. He had asked Bucky if he wanted to come, giving him the opportunity to say no, and Bucky had hated himself the very second he had realised he wanted to go, but _couldn't_. He didn't want to face people, he didn't want to leave the safe haven their new apartment had become.

He didn't want to leave Alpine either, which only worsened how he felt about his weakness. Steve tried to reassure him, of course. It was Steve. He knew. But that didn't change the fact Alpine was with Steve, out there, to the vet, and Bucky was pacing in the apartment, angry at himself and distraught whenever he thought about his cat.

**_Bucky (07:15 AM)_** _: You're at the vet?_

**_Bucky (07:16 AM)_** _: Sorry, you must be driving_

**_Bucky (07:16 AM)_** _: I'm just_

**_Bucky (07:16 AM)_** _: worried_

He was fighting against tears that threatened to run down his cheeks, eyes burning and nose starting to run, when his phone vibrated with Steve's special pattern. He picked up immediately, put Steve on speaker and asked, biting his nail, "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he is," Steve answered, and there was relief in his voice.

"What was it?"

"Let me– do you think you can speak to the vet? She'll explain better than I would, and since you're the one taking care of Alpine when I'm not here..."

Bucky questioned himself. Could he? It wasn't much different from talking to the delivery guy when they'd ordered food. He didn't like phone calls that much, but if he didn't think about it too hard, that could do. And it was for Alpine. He had to.

"Yeah, sure. Pass the phone to her, I'm listening."

There was a silence at the other side of the line, and Bucky was pretty sure Steve had nodded to himself before handing the phone to the vet. He heard an inhalation, and,

"Hello, Mr. Friend of Captain America."

Ah, Steve had protected his identity. It had taken Steve a long time to get used to being known and recognised, his fame easily crossing the borders of the United States. He had the advantage of being on the good side, whereas Bucky... well, let's say public opinion was conflicted about him. This vet would have to sign a ton of papers to ensure her silence, not divulging Bucky's identity avoided a good chunk of it. It also made a part of the anxiety disappear, he realised. She didn't know who he was. He could be Sam, Clint, or even Tony, any of the Avengers. He could play, hide behind someone he wasn't.

"Hello ma'am. What did Alpine have?"

He heard a distant _meooow_ that became closer on its final notes, and he guessed the vet had walked closer to Alpine. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the loud purring coming from very close to the phone — that had to be his cat.

"When was the last time you wormed your cat?"

"Uh..."

Yeah, great question. Alpine was a street cat — Bucky had found him in a box near the Avengers Tower, and he had had to bring him home. The poor creature was meowing desperately, with anguished little sounds. His fur had been a mess, full of dirt and parasites, damp from the rain, his ribs visible underneath it.

Bucky couldn't fathom the cruelty behind abandonment, and he could offer the cat a place to live, a home. He may have wormed him and treated him against flea infestation when he had brought him to the Tower — Tony had called a vet to check on the cat and make sure he didn't have a chip or any health problem that would require immediate treatment. Thankfully, apart from basic care and a loving owner, Alpine didn't lack anything and hadn't required further medical attention. He had been vaccinated and neutered shortly after, as soon as he had recovered and weighted enough to allow it. And after that...

"That's what I thought," the vet sighed after the silence dragged on for a few seconds, Bucky's mind racing to try and remember.

"You haven't noticed that your cat was losing weight?" she carried on.

"No– I mean, yes, a bit, but we changed–" nope, not talking about their new apartments, not saying anything, "his environment not so long ago, so I thought it was only stress, that he would be better as soon as he got used to it."

"That must have contributed to his weight loss, for sure, but his problem was a worm infestation. I treated him, but in two or three weeks, you might have to do it again, okay?"

Bucky nodded frantically before remembering he had to give a vocal answer.

"Let me be clear, Mr. Friend, I'm not blaming you. You probably have a lot on your plate, and I'm thankful for what the Avengers do for us. Just, next time, if you could think about worming your cat a little more regularly, that would... ease my mind." Her tone had softened, but that didn't ease the embrace of guilt's claws on Bucky heart.

"We will do our best," Steve said in the distance. The phone shifted owners again, the purring grew distant and Steve's voice was much closer when he spoke again.

"I'm taking Alpine home and then I'll have to go." He stopped right on time, Bucky's name more than likely on his lips, and the call was terminated.

By the time Steve and Alpine got home, Bucky had looked up the frequency at which a cat needed to be wormed — two to four times a year — and put a reminder on his phone after having asked Nat how to do it, and cleaned up Alpine's litter. There was a headache slowly creeping at the back of his head, tightening on his temple, but he pushed it away. As he had said he would have to, Steve only stayed to drop off Alpine, prepare himself a strong cup of coffee and kiss Bucky goodbye before heading out again — time zones didn't work in favour of the Avengers whenever they'd have to meet with representatives from other countries, and there were dark circles under Steve's eyes, despite the serum fighting most side effects induced by the lack of sleep.

Bucky slowly spiralled as soon as Steve left. He didn't want to worry him, so he acted the best he could while Steve was there, but as soon as he heard the loud bang of their building's entrance door, he slid to the floor, head between his hands, and a whine escaped him.

It was too much. It was always close to being overwhelming, but this time, water had tipped over the edge and Bucky couldn't find the lever to close the dam any more.

He was just... so tired. All the time.

He was supposed to be better. The Avengers expected that, Nat and Sam wanted that, Steve was waiting for that. He couldn't allow himself to fail and fall again, not when Steve was doing all the work for the two of them, while he wasn't even able to take care of their home or their cat on his own.

But the _exhaustion_. It was always there, an everlasting presence, a dead weight that he dragged behind him. No matter how much he tried to take care of himself — through physical activities, sleep, time he spent with Steve, it was always there. Woven into his bones.

He wanted it to stop.

Sometimes he considered the idea of stopping it by stopping him. Plain and simple. He had thought about that a lot when he had been in Hydra's clutches, during the brief moments the Winter Soldier wasn't overpowering, Bucky.

He knew he didn't have to do that. He also knew he would be unable to do it. Not for himself — if it was only for him, he would have ended it a long time ago. But he couldn't bear to leave Steve alone one more time, and he didn't want to inflict more pain to Sam and Nat, who had already been through so much. And he had Alpine to take care of, even though he wasn't doing the best job at that.

So yeah, not doing that.

The anxiety still washed over him, pushing him over the edge, right in the deep dark sea of sombre thoughts. He found the energy to stumble into the bedroom and grab his weighted blanket before he sunk to the floor and cried until his nose was so stuffed he couldn't breathe properly, the headache worsening now that it was coupled with dehydration.

He had to find a way to push the exhaustion away, he thought idly as he grabbed a tissue from the tissue box Sam had thought of buying. He couldn't carry on like this.

"Meowrl?"

"Yeah buddy, I know that's a lot of tissue, but I think I needed that."

Pushed by Alpine who wanted better access to his lap, Bucky straightened his back and sat against the bed, head tilted backward. He still wasn't feeling great — if he were to be honest, it was worse, thanks to the migraine and the stickiness of the tears on his cheeks. But he had accepted the fact that he wasn't good, and that there was nothing he could do against it so far.

He could take a shower and try to prepare Sam's cookies. That would do it, right? That would give the impression he was functional, not slowly drowning because of dark thoughts, right?

The shower ended up being an hour long, because his phone had chimed while he was undressing, and it was from Steve, and it was telling him that the mission he was engaged in would take at least one more day and that he hoped Bucky was doing okay — all of it without punctuation, classic Steve on a mission.

To deal with the idea of being without Steve when he clearly needed him, and the subsequent thought that he shouldn't need Steve to be alright, Bucky spent a long time under the comforting hot rain of the shower. He hung the shower head over him, thanks to the fixture Nat had added when she and Sam had visited him, turned the heat up and let it pour over him, eyes closed. He didn't like the cold that much — too many memories were associated with the ice, even though low temperatures didn’t bother him anymore thanks to the serum.

High temperatures didn’t do much to his body either, but his skin still reddened and he walked out of the shower radiating heat and feeling like a freshly boiled lobster. Physically and mentally. To match his mood, he dressed up with a red long sleeved shirt and Nat's leggings, again. They were oddly comforting — he felt at ease in them, relaxed, and if that didn't brighten his mood, at least it made him smile.

He fed Alpine and checked his litter because it was important to clean it regularly while his treatment was purging him of the worms, the vet had told him.

Then he turned to his phone to search for a cookie recipe — he remembered his mother preparing some for Steve and him, and how they loved to be surprised with a plate of cookies when they'd come home after their day. There also had been cookies sometimes in the army rations, but they sucked in comparison. And they would remind him of Steve, and how he had left him alone by enlisting in the army, which was a bittersweet memory.

Anyway, cookies for Sam. That was the goal, he reminded himself, physically shaking his head in an attempt to stop the spiral.

Sam had said he had bought everything Bucky would need to prepare cookies. Given how Sam was talented at baking — he boasted about how Captain America devoured his waffles every time he had an occasion during an interview, Bucky wouldn't lack anything. He'd better not, because there was no way he was going outside to buy something. Out of the question.

Flour, he had. Sugar, he had. Eggs, he had. Chocolate — he had eaten a bit with Steve, on a slice of bread, feeling like children again, but he had enough. Baking powder, baking soda, he had both. Wonderful. They had mixed spice, and they had butter. Yep, they had everything.

He started to mix the ingredients together just like the recipe was telling him to, not thinking about it too hard. That was nice, doing something unusual with his hands without having to think about it. Following directions. Letting go.

He snapped back to reality hands in the dough, with no idea of how long he had been mixing it. Alpine was snoring on the top of the couch, curled up into a ball, his tail idly moving up and down.

Bucky cleaned his fingers the best he could, washed his hands and went to check his phone.

12:07 AM, huh? Damn, he had daydreamt for a while. Good thing it was _before_ the cookies were put in the oven, otherwise... _Let's not think about it_ , Bucky scolded himself. He went to the toilet, washed his hands again and walked back to the kitchen intending on finishing the cookies, but all motivation deserted him when he looked at the bowl, all the utensils he would have to clean and the mere idea of remembering to check on the cookies regularly. He wasn't trusting himself to do it properly.

Which was alright, he told himself in a semblance of reassurance. He had already prepared the dough. The cookies would probably end up a bit too thick because of how long he had mixed it, but dipped in a good cup of coffee? It would go unnoticed. He deserved the rest.

He didn't manage to shut up the cold voice in his head telling him he was pitiful for not even having the energy to bake cookies. He had been a soldier, and a very good one. He had been trained to take down enemies with a myriad of methods, each adapted to a different scenario. He spoke more languages than almost all the team, apart from Nat. He was used to watches lasting for hours until his targets were within range to kill. His body was enhanced, and he could bear wounds that would have been fatal for a normal person.

Yet he didn't have the energy to bake cookies and watch his oven for fifteen minutes. Pathetic.

At least he could send Sam a photo to keep him updated on his progress. Maybe that would give him the incentive he needed.

**_Bucky (12:15 AM)_** _: [A photo of the bowl of cookie dough on the counter islet]_

With a sigh, he walked back to the bedroom, draped himself in the blanket and tried to fall asleep. He didn't have the motivation to do anything else but sleep.

And sleep he did. A troubled sleep, filled with nightmares that vanished when he woke up, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste on his tongue and a very unpleasant feeling. The exhaustion welcomed him as he opened his eyes and stretched, squinting at the light that inundated the room — mid-afternoon, given the position of the shadows on the wall. He went to fill a glass of water and an inadvertent smile stretched his lips when he noticed Alpine peacefully sleeping on top of the couch, only opening an eye when his master made some noise with a chair, before closing it again and resuming his sleep. So easy. Bucky envied his cat, sometimes.

He glanced at his phone, half expecting not to have any answer given the Avengers were on a mission, but there was a message from Sam.

**_Pigeon (01:15 PM)_** _: You better wait for me before you bake them!_

**_Pigeon (01:16 PM):_ ** _I want to have a winged-shape cookie and I want to do it myself_

**_Pigeon (01:16 PM):_ ** _And then I'll eat it. It'll be MY COOKIE_

Bucky felt submerged by a wave of love and his smile grew bigger. He knew, rationally, that his mood was moving up and down a bit too fast and that he would probably crash and spiral down again, but for now Sam's words were enough to pierce through the dark clouds of his mind and bring a ray of sun. Maybe this day wasn't too bad after all, huh?

Once again, he felt immensely grateful to have friends as caring and understanding as Sam and Nat. They had their own burdens to carry and had gone through things that made it easier for them to understand Bucky's ordeal. They were here for him, sometimes helping him without even realising it, just like Sam did. Or maybe they were perfectly aware that they helped but were subtle enough not to mention it. Either way, they brought him back on his feet and were always ready to lend a shoulder if he needed it. He still felt miserable, but maybe a little less. Maybe he sat next to Alpine and absentmindedly stroked his fur, basking in the pleasant feeling of having friends to count on.

~°~

Steve came back in the middle of the night — Bucky was dozing on the couch with Alpine and he recognised Steve's steps this time, so he rose on his elbow just enough to glance over the couch.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bucky whispered, taking in Steve's tousled hair, his hunched shoulders, the fact that he was still wearing his stealth suit and the long sigh that escaped his lungs when he put his big bag on the floor.

"Hey, Buck," Steve answered in a soft tone, and Bucky knew him well enough to understand everything Steve couldn't say, the exhaustion, the desire for everything to be over, mirroring Bucky's mental mindset from a few hours ago, and if he had the energy, Bucky would have snorted at the irony.

But he didn't, because Steve needed him. He got up, effortlessly lifted Steve off the ground and carried him to the bathroom, Alpine following and warmly greeting the return of his second owner. He sat him on the stool, pushing over the clothes he had left on it, and began to undress him silently. It was in these times, when Steve was at his lowest, that Bucky rose to help him, pushing aside his own worries. Steve needed him, that was the only thing that mattered.

He unlaced his shoes, took them off with a grunt. Socks followed, and they both chuckled weakly when Steve wiggled his freshly freed toes. Bucky rose on his feet, hands brushing Steve's thighs, then his ribs, and he nimbly took off the different layers of clothes — the protective vest, the heat vest, the T-shirt, until it was Steve's skin shivering under his cold fingertips. There was what must have been a pretty serious bruise on his left side, probably with broken ribs that had healed thanks to the serum, and a white line that ran across his chest, right under his left nipple. Bucky didn't ask, didn't say anything. He knew Steve would talk if he wanted to, once he would be ready to.

The belt was trickier to take off, but it finally admitted its defeat, closely followed by the pants.

"Want a shower?" Bucky enquired gently, and Steve nodded as he leant forward to pet Alpine, who rewarded him with a strong purr. Bucky switched on the heater, put two towels on it so they would be warm when Steve would need them. In the meantime, Steve had taken off his underwear, and Bucky hurried back to him to help him climb in the bathtub. He adjusted the temperature away from Steve, careful to hold the shower head with his metal arm, hissing when the heat kicked in suddenly.

"Good?" he said, and Steve extended a hand to feel the temperature before mumbling "hotter", and Bucky obliged until Steve was satisfied. Then, Steve laid in the bathtub slowly filling in while Bucky took off his clothes as well to avoid dampening them, and he got to work. He washed over Steve's body, gentle but not lingering anywhere, letting his hands roam and push away the tensions, the tight knots of muscles that unloosed with the help of the warm water. He scrubbed, the smell of the soap filling the already steamy bathroom — patchouli and lavender, a comforting scent they had chosen together. He soaked Steve's hair and managed to avoid his eyes, then scrubbed as well, earning a moan, and he smiled for himself.

He rinsed all the soap, enjoying the renewed softness of Steve's skin, and he couldn't help but think he was washing the exhaustion and the worries away, dissolving the burden into the warm embrace of the water. He knew how it felt, Steve had taken care of him in a similar fashion several times, and he remembered how blissfully freeing it was, to know there was someone to take care of you, to only have to wait and stay still.

There was no romantic music, no candles lit, only the sounds of the water, the gurgles and the rain, the steam that fogged the mirror, and Alpine roosted on the stool and watched his owners with content eyes. It felt like a silent act of worship, and maybe it was, but there was no grand celebration, no heated declaration of love, no passionate kiss. Instead, Bucky helped Steve to walk out of the bathtub, swathed him with the towels, one for his hair and the other one for his body, and dried him with gentle patting and soft kisses. Once he was finished, Steve was cleaned and dried and resting almost all his weight against Bucky, he planted a kiss on Steve's forehead, pushing away strands of hair, before carrying him to bed and sliding him into cotton briefs — the pyjamas would have been too complicated to put on.

He even gave him the weighted blanket, checked that the door of the apartment was closed, closed the shutters and the curtain and snuggled all against Steve, switching the main light off and Sputnik on.

"Good night, Steve," he murmured more for himself than anything, but he was close enough to hear his boyfriend mumble a "Thank you" back. Bucky didn't need thanks, he would have done it a thousand times, in a heartbeat, but he too knew the urge to say thank you, so he accepted it and watched over Steve's peaceful features until Morpheus got the best of him.

  
  


* * *

After his latest mission, Steve stayed at home with Bucky for two weeks, recovering little by little from whatever had happened during the mission. Bucky didn't question it, even though part of him really wanted to know. He let Steve have the space he needed and made sure to be there, and it paradoxically helped him balance his emotions and decide he wanted to go out again. 

He hadn't wandered out of the apartment since their trip to Ikea, slowly letting the walls become yet another cell, just like he had done with the Tower — that had been a great motivation for Steve to search for a new apartment back in Brooklyn. The moving had somehow lifted Bucky's irrational fear of going out just long enough for him to go to Ikea with Steve, mainly because he wanted to accommodate his new home the best he could, and that involved Ikea.

But after that, between the exhaustion, taming the apartment and taking care of it while Steve was working with the team, and the movie nights with Sam and Nat, the insidious fear had crept again from a corner of his mind, and the longer he waited, the worse it became, to the point checking their mailbox was a challenge. And he didn't want that. He wanted to be able to run with Sam, enjoy an afternoon out with Nat, or surprise Steve with a restaurant night.

So he worked little steps by little steps, sometimes with Steve at his side, their hands safely intertwined, each a tether for the other, sometimes alone, shutting up the mean little voice in his head and trying his best to listen to the cheering one, because it was there. And the more he listened to it, the louder it grew.

~°~

"Steve, want to go buy plants tomorrow?" Bucky blurted, after turning the sentence in his head for the fifteenth time.

They were cooking together — a different kind of battlefield than the ones they were used to, but they fought with bravery and wit nonetheless — and were trying to make cauliflower croquettes. There was flour everywhere, they had to shoo Alpine off the counter islet because he had left tiny white paws everywhere on the floor and probably on the couch as well; Steve had flour in his hair, it was one of the cutest sights Bucky had ever witnessed, and when Steve turned his head to him to answer, he gently rubbed his cheek, maybe adding flour to the mess, but he couldn't resist.

"You want plants for your room?" Steve asked, leaning into the touch with a content grin, his hands busy shaping the croquettes.

"Yeah, feels a bit empty right now."

"Are you... Did you... Do I have flour somewhere?" Steve laughed when he noticed that Bucky was looking at his hair and not his eyes, and Bucky giggled immediately. "If only you knew, Stevie, you're half between a Greek god and a grandpa right now."

"I'll only remember you said I was a Greek god," Steve said smugly, shaking his head and making flour rain on his shoulders.

"Calm down you punk, you're half a grandpa too."

They exchanged a mischievous look, revelling in each other's proximity, before Steve deliberately patted Bucky's head, earning an indignant cry and a tackle.

After the croquettes were all done, Steve's pants had two handprints strategically placed on his ass, Bucky had turned into a grandpa as well, his hair sprinkling flour with every movement of his head, and Alpine had successfully filled the living room and the corridor with paws. Steve and Bucky took a shower together while the croquettes were heating, and they got out of the bathtub right as the timer went off — Steve went to turn off the oven with nothing but a towel around his hips and Bucky marvelled at his boyfriend's grace and beauty. He had liked Steve way before the serum, back when he was still a shrimp, but he had to admit Steve's abs dripping with water, his hair still damped and pushed back, a rebel strand on his temple, his hands working with deadly precision to bring the croquettes out and prepare their plates — yeah, Steve was something to see.

Once Bucky had cleaned all of Alpine's mischiefs, he and Steve sat in front of each other and began to eat. Still chewing a mouthful of croquette, Steve asked, "So, plants tomorrow, is that the plan?"

"If you're okay with it?" Bucky asked, lifting his eyes off his plate to stare at Steve, searching for his approval. He smiled when Steve winked, his heart bubbling with love. Next day's mission: plants.

"Will you wear Nat's wig again?"

"Only if you promise me you're not sending Sam a photo."

~°~

**_Bucky (10:25 AM):_ ** _[A photo of Steve wearing Nat's wig, death glaring at the camera.]_

**_Pigeon (10:26 AM):_ ** _Thanks I almost snorted coffee through my nose_

Bucky wheezed uncontrollably, earning another death glare from Steve, who knew exactly the cause of his hilarity.

They were at the nearest garden centre, and Bucky was slightly overwhelmed by all the scents and bright colours surrounding him. But so far, his anxiety was under control; he had managed to get out the door and to follow Steve without freaking out too much, which was a wonderful improvement for him.

"So, what do you want?" Steve asked, electing to ignore Bucky's giggles.

Bucky took a few seconds to breathe and regain his composure before he answered.

"Plants."

"Nice, we're at the right place," Steve said sarcastically, a shadow of a grin hovering on his lips. "What type of plants, now?"

"If I say plants again?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow, his mind racing to figure out what kind of plants he really wanted.

"You're only getting cacti," Steve replied immediately, already looking around to spot a cactus.

"Okay, no, I don't want that."

Steve smiled tenderly, and Bucky tried his best to think about a plant's name he wanted. Hydra had taught him about poisonous plants, but he didn't want that in his house, not with Alpine. He had checked what kind of plants he could have with a cat living in their apartment as well, so he had a list of names to avoid. He just had to think of something he wanted, and not to give way to panic. He could do it.

"Do you want herbs?" Steve enquired, seeing Bucky's trouble, rushing to the rescue, and Bucky flashed a thankful smile. Yeah, he wanted that.

"Basil! And cilantro." There it was, names. He had missed having those plants when he had started to cook more regularly for Steve. Time to fix that.

Steve spun eagerly, searching for the herbs section, and Bucky followed, taking in the soft sounds of water running to keep the plants hydrated, the heavy smells of flowers mixed with the familiar scents of herbs and vegetables. He could do it, he could manage. If he focused on finding the plants before Steve, making it a gentle competition, he could distract his brain enough to stay afloat. And it really was a gorgeous sight, to see Steve wandering in the middle of the jungle, his mouth slightly open as almost all his attention was devoted to finding the plants Bucky wanted. Almost, because Bucky noticed the frequent side glances to check on him. He could do it.

"Chives, and rosemary too." His brain was finally cooperating with him. When Steve nodded to confirm he had heard him, Bucky parted ways and went to the adjacent shelf, looking around, the thrill of his quest bringing a smile to his lips. He felt better than he had in days, roaming the shelves and triumphantly picking pots while shouting his victory to Steve.

Steve found the basil first, but Bucky beat him to the rosemary, and they laughed heartily as they continued to race, names crossing Bucky's mind that he immediately gave to his boyfriend so that they could search together, slowly filling up their cart until it was overflowing with luxurious greens, the leaves trembling as they pushed the cart to the exit, laughing together.

Steve had bought a cactus, of course.

~°~

The greenhouse room, as they decided to call it, was looking magnificent. It had taken them two days to decide on every pot's place, as each plant needed a different amount of light and heat, but eventually they managed to fit them all in, much to Alpine's satisfaction.

Bucky was dozing in the hammock, basking in the sunlight, Alpine purring on his chest. He could hear Steve humming from the bathroom along with the sound of water running down. Nat and Sam were supposed to come over today, to bake cookies and watch movies — all ingredients for a very good day.

And Bucky felt good. He knew it was only temporary, that it was far from over, but he was proud of how far he had come. He wasn't alone any more, abandoned with his dark thoughts in the Siberian cold. He had his lover at his side, a radiant presence always ready to support and help him. He had Sam, who understood him without words, merely a glance, the hint of a wince or the slight quiver of his hands, and he was always willing to bring Bucky some distraction. He had Nat, their bond strong from what they had both been through, her words forceful and blunt but helping him move forward. He was lucky to have them, and although he still thought from time to time that he didn't deserve them, they had almost convinced him he did, and it was enough for him.

And if he plunged back down, if he sank again, he knew they would be here for him if he needed them. Not that he was okay with accepting help, that still hurt like hell sometimes, but he was lucky enough to have stubborn friends and an even more stubborn lover.

The sound of running water died out, and a few minutes later Bucky heard the bathroom door open and footsteps coming.

"Buck?"

Bucky lazily opened an eye and found Steve standing next to the hammock, his golden hair shining in the sun, the pleasant smell of soap mixing with the scents of the aromatic plants. He was dressed in a comfy looking beige sweater, a content smile on his lips.

"Ready for our friends?" Steve gently asked as he walked closer and extended a hand to stroke Alpine, who immediately purred louder.

"More than ready," Bucky answered, and he leant into Steve's hand when it moved to his cheek.

They stayed like that in silence, breathing in unison, sunlight keeping them warm, until a loud knock echoed on the entrance door.

"Well, I guess here they are," Steve winked, and Bucky scoffed and carefully rose to grab Alpine and put him down.

"Open up! I want my cookies!" Sam's muffled voice came from behind the door, closely followed by Nat's laughter, and their joy warmed Bucky's heart. He swiftly jumped on the ground and slid his hand into Steve's, who gave him a firm squeeze as they walked to the door and let their friends in.

It felt like home, the room filled with laughter and the smell of cookies baking, Alpine rubbing his head on everyone's legs asking for attention, Sam teasing Steve and Nat braiding Bucky’s hair again exchanging knowing smiles.

Much later, once they were all snuggled on the couch sharing cookies and enjoying a nice movie, Bucky sighed deeply, earning a questioning glance from Steve, who was comfortably curled next to him, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder.

"It's nothing. I just..."

Bucky sighed again, trying to put words to the feeling that was clawing at his chest, and Steve patiently waited for him, his blue eyes shimmering with the TV's reflection.

"It just feels like home."

Bucky wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but Steve's eyes glistened even more as if they suddenly were filled with tears, and his embrace tightened around Bucky's chest.

"Welcome home, Buck," he whispered against his ears, and it was Bucky's turn to feel tears burning his eyes, his heart submerged by emotions.

"Welcome home, Steve."

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is trans in this story, as inspired by bicappy's amazing, breathtaking art (and slightly painful headcanons :')). There is thus a brief mention to Hydra badly performing top surgery on him, and all the credit for this headcanon goes to bicappy!
> 
> The IKEA nightlight Spöka really exists, but apparently isn't produced anymore, as I couldn't find it on IKEA's website. It looked like [that](https://www.ikea.com/au/en/images/products/spoka-night-light__0097670_PE238442_S4.JPG). You can find a similar looking lamp [here](https://https://www.ikea.com/us/en/p/spiken-led-night-light-otter-shaped-multicolor-70469145/), although they slightly changed the charging port's position (I wonder why!)
> 
> Title of this story comes from [this song by Avi Kaplan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1m0xdTN56E), which makes me think about Bucky a lot.


End file.
